


The Short Night

by DierdreSundance



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Ramsay Bolton, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DierdreSundance/pseuds/DierdreSundance
Summary: Based on the TV show only. The last night between Sansa and Theon before the long night. It follows the events from the second episode of the  last season.





	The Short Night

Theon had looked at Sansa thousands of times without trully seeing her. That night, however, a single glance was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. He lift the bowl of warm soup up to his lips, trying to escape from her gaze, while in his chest his heart danced galloping. It was very hard for Theon to look at her, and it was very hard for Theon not to. She was beautiful. Sansa had always been pretty, but now she had a strengh in her face that could only embellish her even more. The child that years before dind’t catch much of his atenttion was now quite intimidating. He felt ashamed of himself, of showing his truth, and at the same time it felt as he was yelling for her to see him aswell. It was a sensation a lot different from those he had experiencied before, a kind of conection, and invisible bond that went from heart to heart and made him feel that she could really understand him. Not in that superficial way others thought they knew him, but in a deeper way, who he was on the inside, something that he himself hadn’t found out yet. He was there, sat by her side, swiming in a whirl of emotions. He felt greater joy than he had felt in years, and simultaneously, a knot in his throat made him wanna cry.  He felt weak, ridiculous, vulnerable. And he felt at home.  
They had been talking for a little while. She had asked him about the Iron Island, about his father, about his opinion on the mother of dragons. They had talked about everything except for the one thing they had to talk about, and in that very moment, in the middle of the cold breeze, they shared a silence that spoke louder than words ever could. The winter was coming, but for Theon, it had already arrived a long long time ago.  
When they finished having dinner, Sansa stood up and asked him to follow her. Theon obeyed without giving it a second thought, and they walked through the men who were drinking, laughing and chatting, trying to numb the fear. Many of those men, if not all of them, would be dead in a few hours.  
Sansa took him to one of her chambres, closed the door gently and sat next to him on the bed. They remained silent for a few seconds. Then she rubbed his leg and said:  
‘I have missed you. I have thought of you a lot’.  
Her voice, that was not louder than a whisper, gave Theon goosebumps. He had a dry throat and his voice sounded shaky when he answered that he had missed her too, that he had also been thinking of her.  
‘Everyday’ he said.  
Sansa smiled, although the smile was soon gone. She turned to him, crossing his legs over the mattress and with a drowning voice, she asked:  
‘Do you still think about him?”  
Theon felt as he was running out of air. He opened his mouth trying to give an answer but he could barely breath. Sansa hugged him, she was trembling too. She started to apologize, clumsily, she repeated the same over and over again. Theon wanted her to stop but he could only shake his head. He sat aside and sank his hand in his hair. He wanted to give her an answer but he didn’t feel capable of it. Everytime he had a thought about thim he felt blocked, sinking, lost once more. It was like a slap that continously reminded him that he was no longer himself, that it did not matter what he did, he would always be trapped. He would never be free. He was broken, inside and out, trapped in a state of mind from which he could not escape. At times he felt like something was scratching him on the inside trying to climb to his throat and get outside. He was nothing more than an empty broken shell.  
‘Do you know what he said to me before his bitches ripped out his face?’ Theon raised his glance to Sansa’s cold and broken voice. She looked ahead, her eyelids down and his jaw shaking ‘He said that even if I killed him he would always be a part of me. But that’s not true. He is just ashes. Everytime his memory haunts us we are empowering him’.  
Theon swallowed hard. His whole body was wrapped in tingles. Ramsey was just part of the problem. His identity, that had always been a bit confusing for him, had ended completely shattered. He was afraid of believing. Each time he felt the strength of rising, a voice repeated him that there was nothing in the world he deserved. He would always be Reek, Ramsey had just made him realize about it. He used to look at people without a sense of belonging, as if they all knew the truth. There was no pride after what happened, after what they had done to him, after what he had done. All he wanted was a calm night, with no fears, with no alerts or nightmares.  
Sansa’s case was different, she didn’t deserve anything that happened. She could tear off the pain because it was not meant to be part of her. And Theon told her. He said:  
‘It’s different for me’.  
‘Do you think I did not suffer? That he did not hurt me?’  
‘No. It’s not about that’.  
‘You know?’ Sansa continued ‘You never told me what he did to you’.  
Theon shook his head and his eyes filled with tears. If he would have ever wanted to tell someone about it he wouldn’t have known where to start. Sansa could relate to his pain, she understood the trauma he’d been forced to live, explaining the details, talking about each and every suffering would only let him even more exposed. ‘And she will feel disgusted’ he told himself ‘And I don’t want to think about that’.  
Sansa dragged her fingers to Theon’s head. She let her hands swim in his thick hair, and she stroke him roughly. Theon could hear the weak whimpers that were crawling out of her mouth. She was also crying, but in a different way. Her temper did not break. She was stronger than he had ever been.  
Sansa slipped her hand slowly, went down his nape, and from there to his back. Then she grabbed his hand, and after taking a deep breath she tried to get rid of his glove. Every single muscle in Theon tensed.  
‘Don’t’ he moaned. But he did not turn away, he was petrified. He was trapped in his own body, screaming, scratching, crying, but on the outside he was nothing more than stone, wet and soft stone, that despite the pain desperately searched for a way to keep on breaking.  
He had his sight fixed on the floor when she touched his hand. The warmness of her skin surprised him. Sansa’s fingerprints travelled through the back of his hand, testing. She got to the stumps of his mutilated limbs and she did not step back. If Theon had raised his head he could had seen the sorrow glowing in her eyes, but Theon couldn’t look at her. He was waiting. Waiting for the moment she would move away and ask him to leave. Nevertheless Sansa did not stop. She moved to the armour that covered his chest and started to undo it, making Theon feel nauseous.  
‘Stop’ he pleaded, sobbing ‘Please...’  
And Sansa stopped. With her left hand she pulled out one of Theon’s curls and placed it behind his ear, with grace.  
‘It’s OK’ she whispered to his ear while her other hand held his and helped him stand. They were one in front of the other when she started to undress his chest, slowly, easy.  
Theon did not remember anyone ever touching him like that. When every piece of clothing had fallen to the floor, he shrugged over himself, pretending to vanish, wishing not to be seen. The cold of the night passing through the walls permeated his bones and his skin, ruffled. He closed his eyes, picturing he was elsewhere. He didn’t know how Sansa could contemplate such a deplorable scene when he himself had not been able to look in the mirror for the last years. The touch of her skin shocked him. Sansa touched his wound and followed the trace of his scars. He had his skin wrecked around the zones Ramsey had cut off. The pain came to his mind and he let a wimp out. The blows and the whiplases had melted with his body, as if they had always been one. He barely had any skin left that hadn’t been burnt, ripped, rawed.  
He took a step back, aching, and Sansa raised his chin to contemplate his face. Their eyes met once more. In that moment it felt as if everything was mirror. He could see in Sansa nothing but pain. Everything was part of the same.  
Theon moved the trembling hand and approached Sansa’s cheeks. He let it floating over, observing the girl without blinking an eye, and when she fainted a smile, he caressed it at last, almost eagerly. It had been a long time since he last touched another person, since he had felt his skin on another skin. And Sansa’s skin, so pale, was extremely soft, extremely pure.  
She turned her face trying to wrap herself more in the caress and Theon burst into tears. Sansa hugged him. She sank her head on Theon’s neck and started to speak very quickly, but he was not able to understand what she was saying. They separated a bit later, when Sansa started to take off her own clothes. Theon tried to make her stop but she didn’t want to listen. Theon had already seen Sansa’s body in a more umpleasant situation. He could still recall the cries and screaming in his head. He could not stop it. He should have killed him in that very moment. He shouldn’t be allowed to see her with no clothes on. It wasn’t right.  
‘Look at me’ she ordered. Her breats were naked and bruised. She had some scars in her belly and flayed skin over her ribs. Theon wished he could had taken her pain away.  
‘I’m sorry’ he said in a thin voice, feeling directly responsible. Sansa did not say a word. ‘Did he…’ proceed Theon with fear ‘Did he do anything else to you?’  
Sansa shook her head.  
‘But he did to you, didn’t he?’  
Theon bowed his head in response. He just wished for her not to go on, to leave it all there. And Sansa seemed to hear his prayers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and with her nose he searched Theon’s, shyly. He could nearly feel her breath dancing between his teeth. Sansa’s lips opened slowly until they joined his in a kiss too brief, but that lasted an eternity for Theon.  
When they parted Sansa giggled timidly, with tears in her eyes still.  
‘He has no power over you’ she repeated.  
‘I’m disgusting...’  
‘You’re not’  
‘I deserve it… And I’m glad. I’m glad it happened. I’m glad I was there, to help you, even if it was too late. Sansa… I would have stayed there forever if only that kept you save’.  
She jumped over him again. She kissed him fiercely, she kissed him softly. The salty taste of the tears made its way into their mouth, and for the first time in so long Theon felt grateful of being alive.  
Sansa.  
They laid on bed. The light of the candles had almost extinguished, and in the twilight she reached for his hand, making him hold her. His chest was against her back, and the scent of her hair cradled him. He closed his eyes. He had never felt so much love. His muscles relaxed and the tension vanished. All thoughts were killed and he let the mirage carry him, feeling normal again, as if time had not passed by, as if he was in a reality in which things had turned out differently. He would had not minded dying in that moment.  
‘Don’t you die tomorrow, please’ she pledged as if she had read his thoughts.  
‘I’ll try’  
She furled his hand with more strengh, and they didn’t say anything else. They stayed cuddled all night long, ‘till the light of dawn reflected itself in the room and the crows started singing. And, for the first time in forever, they rest without nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it. Thanks for reading.


End file.
